Tag Archives: polly

Gerry, Geoffrey and The Underwater Menace (1967)

underwater menace

Doctor Who production office, late 1966.

GERRY: (on phone) No, no, it’s the windjammer jacket, the blacked-up face and the Harpo Marx wig. No, he’s going to look great. Don’t let him out of the building. OK, marvellous. Thanks.

Imperious knock on the door.

GEOFFREY: Pray, good fellow! Grant me access to these… impoverished premises!

GERRY: Call you back.

Hangs up and opens door. There stands an imposing man, opera cape, wild hair, crazy eyes.

GEOFFREY: Thank you, good man! Run and fetch the Script Editor, would you?

GERRY: I’m the Script Editor.

GEOFFREY: Good lord, you’re Mr Davies?

GERRY: It’s Davis, actually.

GEOFFREY: Davies, I am the esteemed writer Geoffrey Orme! No doubt you’ve heard of me. I have written many high quality feature films and TV programs, enjoyed by the masses!

GERRY: Oh, yes, right…

GEOFFREY: And the good news is, I have decided to write for your children’s program, Mr Who!

GERRY: Well, it’s Doctor Who, and…

GEOFFREY: Now, Davies, I submitted a perfectly brilliant Mr Who script to you a good fortnight ago and yet I have heard nothing! Nothing! Me, the writer of What would you do, chums?, Ramsbottom Rides Again and no less than four Old Mother Riley films!

GERRY: Oh right, Mr Orme. What was the name of that script again?

GEOFFREY: Mr Who Under the Sea!

GERRY: Oh yes, hang on, I’ve got my notes on it somewhere.

GEOFFREY: Notes? Of sheer gobsmacked admiration, I trust! Haw haw haw!

GERRY: (fishes the script out of the bin) Here it is.

GEOFFREY: Misfiled, eh? You should sack your incompetent wretch of a secretary.

GERRY: Yes… So, Mr Orme, thank you, but we will not be making your script.

GEOFFREY: No! No! You cannot do this to me! You are turning me down? I, who wrote 6 episodes of Ivanhoe? I demand to know why!

GERRY: Well, it doesn’t make any sense.

GEOFFREY: So you’re just a little man after all, Davies, like all the rest. You disappoint me.

GERRY: I mean, it’s set in the ancient city of Atlantis. And these people live under the sea…

GEOFFREY: But of course! The people there survived due to in air pockets in the mountain’s caves! But they long to lift Atlantis from the ocean. Make it dry land again!

GERRY: They could just take the lift.

GEOFFREY: What?

GERRY: There’s a lift leading to the surface. If they wanted to be on the surface, they could do so whenever they want. Rebuild Atlantis there. And really, why would they stay hidden for thousands of years rather than rejoin humanity? Why not go and ask people on the surface for help to raise Atlantis?

GEOFFREY:  But you see, Professor Zaroff has promised them…

GERRY: Yes, that’s another thing. Zaroff wants to blow up the world, under the guise of raising Atlantis from the sea bed, but there’s no good reason why.

GEOFFREY: Why? You, a script editor of a lowly children’s programme ask me why? The achievement, my dear Davies! The scientist’s dream of supreme power!

GERRY: See, the mad scientist thing is a bit clichéd, Mr Orme and most scientists actually want to advance humanity.

GEOFFREY: You are a fool! An idiot!

GERRY: What about how all the Atlanteans live on plankton?

GEOFFREY: What’s wrong with that?

GERRY: They live in the ocean, Mr Orme! They are literally surrounded by seafood, yet they choose to eat plankton. And although they have the world’s greatest scientist living amongst them, and they have the technology to perform transformative surgery on human beings, they haven’t got any refrigerators.

GEOFFREY: But that’s the genius of it, don’t you see? All the food goes bad in a few hours, and that’s what sparks the revolt which spells Zaroff’s downfall. That’s how Mr Who wins!

GERRY: Look, it’s not Mr Who. The lead character’s name is the Doctor. And sometimes Dr Who when I want to mess with people. In any case, I just don’t think you’ve got the structure right.

GEOFFREY: What do you mean, you little man?

GERRY: You see in our show, Mr… I mean Dr Who wins through intelligence and ingenuity. In your script, the villain just tells the Doctor his plan at the start of Part Two. There’s nothing for him to work out if Zaroff gives the game away as soon as they meet. And the Doctor’s big plan to stop Zaroff destroying Altantis is to… destroy Atlantis. He might as well let Zaroff blow it up.

GEOFFREY: Blast! Blast! Blast!

GERRY: Well, exactly. In any case, I think it’s beyond our budget. It’s got a shark tank, an octopus and a whole underwater ballet with loads of floating fish people. We showed the script to one director and he ran away in panic.

GEOFFREY: Just put flippers on some extras and hang them up via wires! I really think you’re making too much fuss about all this, Davies. A silly little children’s program doesn’t need to make any sense or look convincing!

GEOFFREY: Yes… I think that’s your whole problem right there. Now if you please Mr Orme… (Ushers him out the door)

GEOFFREY: (In the corridor, shouting at closed door) The man is a fool. Have I not sworn to you that Atlantis shall rise again from the sea? Haven’t I? Haven’t I? What are you staring at?

CLEANING LADY: Nothing. Nothing at all.

*****

One week later

GERRY: (on the phone) The t-shirts say what? Tell him it’s just a joke. No, don’t let him phone his agent, I’ll come down straight away. (Hangs up). Okay, thanks for coming in Mr Orme. I wanted to tell you that we will be producing your script for Doctor Who after all.

GEOFFREY:  Well, how delightfully wise of you, young Davies! You must have read the script again and realised what pure, unsullied genius it is!

GERRY: Well, no. Another script fell through and as I’m writing the story before it and the one after, I just don’t have time to write this one as well. Frankly, it’s either your story or we put on reruns of… I don’t know, Ivanhoe.

GEOFFREY: I wrote six episodes of Ivanhoe!

GERRY: I know you wrote six episodes of Ivanhoe. Plus, we’ve found a director who didn’t have a conniption at the thought of making the thing, so we’re on.

GEOFFREY: Capitol! Excelsior!

GERRY: Sure. Look, I don’t have time to do much rewriting on it, so just take on all the notes from our last meeting. Plus the octopus has got to become a fish and add a bit where the Doctor dresses up as a gypsy. Dressing up’s his new thing. And you’ll need to write in a new assistant, a Scots boy called Jamie.

GEOFFREY: No problem there, good fellow. I’ll just give him some of Mr Who’s girlfriend’s lines.

GERRY: Um, sure. And change the title.

GEOFFREY: Yes! To Geoffrey Orme presents the extraordinary tale of Mr Who and the Fish People!

GERRY: Keep working on it. Oh, and one other thing… there’s a terribly hackneyed line in it somewhere. I forget what it is just at the moment, but it’s a real howler. Anyway, we’ll fix it later. I’ve got to get to the studio. (exits)

Geoffrey savours the moment.

GEOFFREY: Nothing in the world can stop me now!

CLEANING LADY: Good for you, ducks.

*****

LINK TO Cold War: Setting, the sea.

NEXT TIME:  We get ensnared in The Web Planet. What galaxy is that in, Doctor?

 

 

 

 

Super villains, trolly dollies and The Faceless Ones (1967)

faceless1“We are the most intelligent race in the universe,” boasts the Chameleon Director (Bernard Kay) during The Faceless Ones. Well, I’m not so sure. I think their convoluted plan to kidnap fifty thousand young tourists and steal their identities has one or two flaws.

  • Firstly, let’s say you need to kidnap fifty thousand people and you’re an advanced alien race. There were 3.4 billion people on Earth in 1966. Wouldn’t you quietly pick off people one by one, scattered around the world, to avoid attention? I’m not sure my first thought would have been to establish a fake airline, offer package tours to young tourists, send postcards home to their families and fly them to a waiting satellite. That’s the sort of convoluted planning we usually leave to the Cybermen.
  • Upon arrival at Gatwick Airport the Doctor and his friends start snooping about. Although Chameleon Tours has been operating under cover for months without detection, Polly (Anneke Wills) wanders into the wrong hangar and witnesses a murder, thus kicking the whole thing off. But when the Chameleons capture Polly, they choose not to simply hide her. They make the odd decision to duplicate her, send her Chameleon counterpart into the airport to interact with all her friends and try to pass her off as someone else entirely. (Which, it turns out, she’s not very good at. She fumblingly reveals herself after about 20 seconds of talking with the Doctor.) If you wanted to duplicate her to progress the plan in some way, why not just pretend to be Polly, gain the confidence of her friends and spy on their actions? Inventing a Swiss alter ego seems unnecessary to say the least.
  • Poor old Chameleon Spencer (Victor Winding, who I hope invented those peculiar text symbols in Microsoft Word). He gets charged with trying to kill the Doctor (Patrick Troughton, by now far less enigmatic than in last random’s, The Power of the Daleks) and he’s utterly rubbish at it. I get the feeling that his human counterpart must have watched a lot of Bond movies, because his methods of attack are unnecessarily supervillainy. There’s a room which fills with icy gas, a wee button gadget which incapacitates its victim when stuck on their back and, most stagily, a slowly moving laser beam which inches its way to our prone heroes. Thankfully, not directly at their crotches as in Goldfinger. This is a family show!
  • “I’m quite sure the first thing you want to do when you get to Switzerland is write home to your parents,” Chameleon flight attendant Ann Davidson (Gilly Fraser) tells a group of young travellers. Here, they clearly haven’t done their research into the 18-25 age bracket they claim to cater too. My bet is the first thing they’d want to do is find the nearest bar, load up on schnapps and make good with that cute blonde in seat 22d. Only after a few weeks would they want to send a postcard home and then only to ask Ma and Pa to send more money.
  • Aviation must have been very different in 1966. Apparently no-one tracked planes in flight all the way to their destinations, and no-one at those destinations noticed that no passengers ever disembarked from Chameleon Tours flights. Not until plucky Jean Rock (Wanda Ventham, but hang on a mo, Jean Rock – what a great name! I hope she had side career as a pop singer. Jean Rock and the Trolly Dollies, or something) checks with the destination airports in Episode 4. After which the Commandant (Colin Gordon) tells her off for incurring the expense of phoning internationally! (And hang on another mo, in a story which is at pains to give most characters first and last names, the Commandant doesn’t even get one. That’s right – he’s the Nameless One.)
  • The Chameleons’ duplication process doesn’t pick up Scottish accents. Which means that when Jamie (Frazer Hines) and Inspector Crossland (Kay again) are copied, they revert back to English accents. Clearly there’s a dial on those armbands set to ‘received pronunciation’. It’s a bit strange that a group of faceless aliens, looking to regain a sense of identity, would then homogenise all the little details that add distinctiveness to those identities. Unfortunately, they never get around to copying almost companion Samantha Briggs (Pauline Collins), so we’re stuck with her would be Liverpudlian accent throughout, flippin’ heck, ta ra luv and so on.
  • The ‘originals’ – the paralysed human beings copied by the Chameleons – have to remain untouched for their Chameleon doppelgängers to survive (which itself is a unfortunate flaw in the system). Luckily, they have been hidden where ‘they will never be found’. Or so the bad guys boast. Actually, they’ve been hidden on site at Gatwick, in the car park. The car park! A place that hundreds of people traverse through and where the originals could only have been spotted through the rigorous investigation of looking through a windscreen. The height of villainous cunning, it’s not.
  • Finally, there’s the real schoolboy blunder of making your own people’s survival dependent on some natty arm bands (all about wearables, these Chameleons) worn not by them, but by their originals. Which you’ll remember are safely stored, where they will never be found, in the car park. So of course when they are found, that enables the Doctor to fiddle with the armbands and blackmail the Chameleons into giving up their nutty scheme and head home. I mean, if the originals and their armbands are so vital to the survival of your species, then take them with you. You could store them on your own satellite, which might be marginally harder to locate and infiltrate than the car park. Just sayin’.

The Chameleons keep up an ongoing stream of insults about the intelligence of human beings through out The Faceless Ones. “Their minds can’t cope with an operation like this,” Captain Blade (Donald Pickering) sneers at one point. Well, you’re right there, mate. I certainly can’t make head nor tail of it.

LINK TO The Power of the Daleks: Both Troughtons and both from Season 4, but also, both start with a man being shot.

And as we’re talking, hasn’t it been a while since we had a new series story?

NEXT TIME: You will run, it will walk. You will rest, it will not. We’re trapped in the puzzle box called Heaven Sent.

 

Random Extra: Old, bold and The Power of the Daleks (2016)

powerdal2

Of all the missing stories, The Power of the Daleks is the one we seem most desperate to piece back together. There have been photonovels and reconstructions and now an animation. I saw this latest version in the same cinema where I’d watched The Day of the Doctor nearly three years ago. That was an experience jam packed with new fans. Power was for a die hard audience of about 20. And it soon became apparent why.

I’ll get to that in a bit. First though… lights dim…   DumdaDum, DumdaDum… Ah, but there is something great about hearing that theme music in cinema quality sound. So exciting when it starts up and that smoky old title sequence looks great on the big screen. It does nothing to help you get over the fantasy that the actual episodes might have magically turned up and the whole animation thing’s been an elaborate ruse. But then the animation starts and you’re watching talking cartoons again. Ah well. Keep looking Phil.

I’ve talked about the animations before. They are labours of love and again the people behind them have worked immensely hard under a punishing timeframe. Power is one of the better efforts but as with all which have gone before, it’s clear that there’s never enough time or money awarded to these things. Glitches have inevitably crept in. Hats, jackets and whole outfits sometimes appear and disappear between shots. At one stage, Lesterson’s arm is sheared by a sharp vertical line. In some shots, Janley’s head doesn’t match up with her neck. And on the whole, faces, limbs and bodily movement are restricted to a few variations on templated norms, and thus regularly show up the limitations of the piece.

It can’t seriously compare with the standards of broadcast animation you’d expect on TV, let alone in the cinema. But it does have an advantage in the Daleks. Their geometric design and their smooth, gliding motion are made for animation. When it’s just them on screen, the whole thing bristles with greater confidence.

But even those animation friendly Daleks can’t help the problems involved in matching up to a 50-year-old mostly missing adventure. Yes, we have scripts, telesnaps and publicity photos to help animators fill the gaps, but seeking for verisimilitude with the original doesn’t always help. Power, like most good drama, has regular moments of silence. In the original, these which would have been filled by actorly and directorial flourishes. But in the animation, these moments often feel static and awkward.

There are numerous instances of this, but by way of, um, illustration, here’s one. In Episode 1, the Doctor walks across Lesterson’s lab and into the Dalek capsule. In the original, Patrick Troughton and director Christopher Barry would have conspired to make those silent seconds suspenseful and intriguing. Here, it’s just a cartoon figure wobbling from one side of the frame to another. It’s dull and it goes on too long. And that drag in pace happens over and over again. So many close ups held too long on a solitary face. Too many two-shots stretched out until the next line of dialogue. Too many shots with nothing happening, then something briefly happeningthen nothing happening again.

It happens because the production team has made no edits to the original audio, which they might have been tempted to do to pick up the pace (not to mention to give them a few less minutes to animate). Fine, many will say. We want Power to be complete as possible. But can’t we trim a slow scene a little here? Can’t we top and tail a few seconds of incomprehensible silence there? Can’t we take out that telltale sound of Dalek casters rolling on wooden rostra, and let them float in eerie silence? Can’t we – just as a general rule – edit the audio to make this an easier experience to watch?

(The funny thing is, the strict commitment to re-presentation of the original audio, doesn’t extend to the pictures. Director Charles Norton says on the supporting featurette, Destination: Vulcan, that the finished result is about a 50% shot-by-shot recreation of the original. So it’s surely the less faithful 50% which includes visual references to Magpie Electronics, from the 21st century’s The Idiot’s Lantern. It’s a fun reference. And it shows that the animators aren’t wedded to absolute adherence to the original pictures. So why the audio?)

I can guess the response from the purists, though: where do you stop? Start trimming the story back, and why not edit out some of the duller scenes? Why not add a subplot or other characters (perhaps even a third female character)? Why not, gasp, rewrite the whole thing? You’d have to recast the voices, but that’s possible… right, Big Finish?

It would be heresy to some. But do we want a version of Power which is only of interest to purists, like the 20 die hards in the cinema with me? Or do we want one which a general audience might warm to?

I’ll stick my neck out: we need to be brave. Let’s cut these old stories up. Remix them. We weren’t always so precious about these things; look at the sixties Dalek movies. New versions of old stories in new mediums for new audiences. We’ll reimagine Shakespeare and the Beatles… why not Doctor Who?

If they’re going to recreate further missing Doctor Who episodes, be they animated or live action (and frankly, the latter could make a cracking digital only series for the BBC), I hope they will be bolder. If they stick with animation, the obvious candidate is The Evil of the Daleks with Doctor and Dalek character designs already done. Rassilon knows, there’s a story which could do with a little restructuring. If they do turn to Evil, I hope they make the best version they can, not the most reverent version they can.

After all, that’s exactly the approach Russell T Davies took. When reinventing the program, he didn’t treat Doctor Who like it was made of glass. He knew it wouldn’t break. The same rule could by applied to missing episodes, and if they aren’t coming back, they’ll have to be remade to be seen. Which would be great for us long term fans but also for new fans – because these are at heart, great stories. But make them new. Just like the best Doctor Who, such as The Power of the Daleks, always was.

NEXT TIME… normal service is resumed with The Faceless Ones.

Hedging bets, playing dumb and The Power of the Daleks (1966)

powerradioThese days we’d call it a soft launch. When Doctor Who first changed its lead actor, it made no big deal about it. The publicity for his debut story story barely mentioned new Doctor Patrick Troughton. The Radio Time story focuses on familiar elements: Ben (Michael Craze), Polly (Anneke Wills) and the Daleks. They didn’t change the title sequence. The message being sent is this is business as usual. No need to panic.

Last random, we saw how you change a Doctor with utter confidence. The Power of the Daleks shows no such bravado. It’s not making a fuss, just in case it all goes wrong and in a few weeks they have to ask Hartnell to come back. Not only do the production team soften the new Doctor’s appearance with a return of the show’s most famous monsters, they also bring back a team of old hands to work behind the scenes; writers David Whitaker and Dennis Spooner were the series’ first two story editors and director Christopher Barry worked on the very first Dalek episodes. Bets have never been so hedged.

In fictional terms too, how and why the Doctor has changed is kept very vague, in case it has to be retrofitted later on. The new Doctor refuses to give a straight answer to a question, babbling about change and renewal. Nothing there which couldn’t be revised later on, should this whole risky experiment go wrong.

Of course, it didn’t go wrong. It went spectacularly right. Not only has regeneration become a mainstay of the series and an essential element of its lasting appeal, Troughton was a brilliant success in the part. These days, we’re well acquainted with the second Doctor and his mischievous, child-like ways. It’s hard to imagine just what a shock it was watching The Power of the Daleks and seeing this, well, clown, leapfrogging boulders, tootling on a recorder and ripping door knobs of walls. “It’s little things like this,” says Ben “that make it difficult to believe that you’re the Doctor.”

It’s clever of Whitaker and Spooner to vocalise the audience’s doubts through Ben, just as it is to give their counterpoints to Polly, who far more readily accepts that this newcomer is the same man, just changed. She seems entirely convinced by the time the new Doctor indulges in some playful tongue twisters. “Lesterson listen. Exercises the tongue. Try it!” he urges, and she joins in. If anything indicates that the old Doctor has gone for good, it’s surely this scene, which Hartnell, famously shaky on his lines at the best of times, could never have pulled off.

****

The Daleks have also undergone a change. Having crash landed years ago on the colony planet Vulcan, they are being slowly awakened by starry eyed scientist Lesterson (Robert James). Rather than adopting their usual modus operandi of killing everyone within reach of a sucker arm, they instead adopt the pretense of working for the human colonists.

Various Vulcans see the Daleks as a way to further their own personal goals, whether it be scientific advancement like Lesterson or revolution and conquest like rebel leaders Janley (Pamela Ann Davy) and Bragen (Bernard Archer). Though you’d have thought the obsequious way the Daleks keep insisting to be everyone’s serrrr-VANTS! would have raised a few suspicious eyebrows. Not to mention that one almost gives the game away when it says, “a Dalek is bett…is not the same as a human!”

I’ve talked before about Whitaker’s idiosyncratic take on the Daleks, but its worth saying again that what he does is to personalise the Daleks by giving them a dose of human foibles: lying, deception and scheming. Lesterson even sees them as humanity’s replacement, although he says so once he’s gone doolally. “We understand the human mind,” one of them grates, and they do demonstrate an ability to psychologically manipulate those around them, by appealing to their greed. Still they haven’t entirely got us sussed. When Bragen orders one of them to kill the colony’s Governor (Peter Hensell), it ponders “why do human beings kill other human beings?” It’s played nicely too, as much as a ring modulator can convey emotion. The sense is not so much of a poignant Dalek reaction to death, but more a surprised reaction to how easy this conquest of the colony has been. #Trump.

The Doctor spends the whole story warning everyone about the Daleks, to no avail. If anyone watching still shared Ben’s doubts about this newcomer’s identity, it’s this suspicious attitude to the Daleks which shows he’s the same bloke as the white haired geezer he saw in the mirror. The audience knows he’s right too – as early as Episode 3 it’s clear that a Dalek can’t change its bumps. It’s another clever plotting trick of Whitaker’s, to put the audience on the side of this new Doctor. Even though he looks different and won’t answer a straight question, we know he’s right about the Daleks, so we’re on his side.

The power politics of the Colony and how the Daleks aid and abet it take up five episodes, and make for interesting enough listening. Episode 6, though, turns things up a notch. It starts with the Daleks finally articulating their true plan, to annihilate all humans, and then methodically setting about the task. The episode is almost entirely made up of the Daleks mercilessly mowing down humans, rebels and loyalists alike. It’s as grim as sixties Doctor Who gets. At one stage, a desperate Ben and Polly can do nothing but hide in a cupboard and hope to survive.

The Doctor’s plan comes worryingly late in the day. It’s to use the Daleks’ own power supply to blow their domed tops off. To make it happen, the Doctor has to resort to desperate measures. He has to use Bragen’s guards as a distraction, to allow him time to lash the set up together. It works, but the death count is Sawardesque.

Not everyone is grateful. The Doctor’s solution destroys the colony’s power supply, ensuring months of hardship. But there’s something even more worrying; an indication that the Doctor’s motivations are far from clear.

POLLY: Mind you, he wasn’t very convincing when he was trying to explain it to Valmar and Quinn and everybody.

BEN: No, he wasn’t, was he?

POLLY: Doctor, you did know what you were doing, didn’t you?

(The Doctor laughs softly)

What’s the suggestion here? That the Doctor deliberately botched his own attempts to explain the danger presented by the Daleks, so that he might play some long game of his own? A game which left scores of people dead?

One thing’s for sure, this is no longer business as usual. It might now be time to panic.

RANDOM QUESTION: when the Doctor tells Ben and Polly to go away and amuse themselves for a while, what do you think they get up to? I hope they had fun. Maybe in one of the empty rocket rooms.

LINK TO The Twin Dilemma: Doctory debuts.

NEXT TIME… It’s a flying beastie! We’re sticking with Troughton to face The Faceless Ones.

BUT BEFORE THEN: an random extra post, on The Power of the Daleks animation.

Illustration, animation and The Moonbase (1967)

moonbase1 moonbase2moonbase3moonbase4

For many of us, this story started as Doctor Who and the Cybermen by Gerry Davis, one of the foundation Target novelisations. A bold and vivid story of TARDIS turbulence, poisoned sugar and Cyber shenanigans, it gave way every few chapters for some lurid illustrations by Alan Willow.

Each of these had quotes from the book which served as natty little titles for each picture. There was Yeah! It’s the moon’s surface, all right! in which Polly has become Chinese, the Doctor has become an ageing Paul McCartney, Ben has developed the physique of an Olympic wrestler, Jamie has a vestigially underdeveloped arm and the TARDIS scanner radiates straight lines. Is it glowing or is the volume up high? The former, I suppose.

There was It was the shadow of a large figure in which an alarmed Ernest Borgnine is staring wide eyed even though the said shadow of a large figure, complete with handlebar head, is behind him. Again, the figure is radiating straight lines, but shadows can’t glow, right? Maybe this time it’s sound. Or a pungent Cyber odour.

These days you can buy the DVD of The Moonbase and it comes with illustrations too. But these are the animated kind, which make up the missing episodes 1 and 3 of this four parter. Sadly, the animators have not chosen to pay homage to the work of Alan Willow. The Cybermen all have the right number of fingers. The TARDIS crew look roughly like the actors who played them. Nothing radiates straight lines.

The animation of The Moonbase episodes is the latest in a series which helps make incomplete Doctor Who stories marketable to the DVD buying public. They are, on the whole, decent if uninspiring pieces of work. Unusually for these type of projects, the first was the best. This was the animation of two episodes of fellow Troughton Cyberadventure The Invasion by long standing production house Cosgrove Hall. Due to some production serendipity, these animations had a decent budget as a one-off. The results – particularly in sequences which didn’t involve the animating of faces (which seems to always be a challenge to avoiding cartoonish expressions) – were beautiful and moody, a kind of Who noir.

The other stories with moving illustrations have had lower budgets and thus are, perhaps unsurprisingly, less impressive. The detailed line drawing style of animators Planet 55 works well on the metallic Cybermen of The Moonbase, but is a little too busy for the 18th century setting of The Reign of Terror. Its rendering of The Tenth Planet Episode 4 is a similarly mixed bag; nice on the snowy exteriors and snowbase interiors but a bit too confronting when characters look towards camera for big showy close ups, their faces seemingly made up of too many angular planes. Qurios’ work on The Ice Warriors is also nice, but with a more simplistic style than Planet 55’s. Almost too simplistic; the movement of the characters limbs is particularly rigid, their elbows hinging like they’re doing the robot dance.

But I’m not here to criticise what is basically good work on a tight budget from both these companies. The truth is, I suspect, that what makes a good animated episode of Doctor Who is that it’s a good episode to start with. And the action packed episodes 1 and 4 of The Invasion is another factor which helps the Cosgrove Hall stuff.

There’s another element too: whether or not an episode has clips or telesnaps available. In a funny way if it does, it doesn’t help. The Moonbase animations take close reference from the telesnaps, ensuring as close a match as possible with the pictures as transmitted. So the animations strive towards recreation of the originals, as an overarching approach to the work.

This adherence to the source material leads to some nice touches, such as in opening moments of The Moonbase Episode 3, when the reprise of the previous episode’s cliffhanger, which shows a Cyberman leaping off a hospital gurney, retains the bed’s unintentional wobble as shown in the previous ep. In some cases though, it’s almost unthinkable that an animated version would vary too far from what we know about the missing episodes. Could The animated Tenth Planet Episode 4 have ended with a brand new version of the Doctor’s renewal? The Outpost Gallifrey forum would have melted.

But then think again of those animated installments of The Invasion. Free of the constraints of matching up with telesnaps or existing clips, the animators were able to create a style if not all of their own, then at least one which stands on its own merits. It might make for a more satisfying experience than sticking closely to the telesnaps. The trap here is that you can’t take it too far; The Reign of Terror‘s animation was guillotined in DWM for adopting a style too far removed from that of the show’s 1960s origins.

But then Doctor Who has never had an easy relationship with animation. The Tennant years saw some valiant attempts, The Infinite Quest and Dreamland, but they are curios only, not the main game. And now that The Underwater Menace DVD has been abandoned, perhaps we’ll never see another animated missing episode. Which is a shame because despite the reservations expressed above, I’d still like to see the results of animating an entire missing story. The Power of the Daleks, anyone? Or Marco Polo?

Never mind, we’ll always have the work of Alan Willow, who managed to pick some of The Moonbase‘s standout moments for immortalisation in pen and ink. At the book’s climax, for instance, the moment when the Gravitron propels all those pesky Cybes into space is captured forever as One by one, as their gravity was neutralised, they rose slowly into the air. Reams and reams on radiating straight lines beam from the moonbase, as the pointy fingered Cybermen flail above ground. The most prominent one looks plaintively distressed, unusual for this race of emotionless killers. Its letterbox slot of a mouth is tilted downwards in a look of comical dismay. Ah, good times.

LINK to Dark Water/Death in Heaven: Cybermen, and jeez don’t I love an easy link to make!

NEXT TIME: She’s an old ship, full of aches and pains. We embark on a Voyage of the Damned.

Brilliance, rubbish and The Tenth Planet (1966)

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Let’s go straight to the opening of Episode 2. It’s the reprise of a cliffhanger I love. The descriptively named ‘American Sergeant’ (John Brandon) lies dead in the polystyrene snow. A human hand clutches at his chest. The camera pans up for our first good look at the alien assailant, to reveal that the creature’s not human at all. It’s a bizarre simulacrum of a human, encased in plastic and covered in tubing. Its face is stretched white fabric, with gaping holes for eyes and mouth. It’s a weird unsettling sight. Suddenly, a slight camera wobble to the left, and there in the corner, we can see the edge of the set’s cyclorama. Boom! Illusion shattered!

It’s just one moment, but it epitomises a question I found myself asking a lot while watching The Tenth Planet: is this brilliant or is it rubbish? The ghoulish Cybermen, here in their earliest incarnation, are a case in point. They are ramshackle, to say the least. Their heads are visibly secured with sticky tape. Their guns are the size of skateboards, and sit sideways across their crotches. And when they speak, their mouths open into one stationary circle and snap shut when discordant words escape. To mostly comic effect.

But… But… There is something undeniably creepy about them. It’s those stretched fabric faces, as if they’re recovering from hideous facial injuries. In close ups, those eyes aren’t inky black holes – you can see human eyes moving beneath them. These Cybermen aren’t nightmares in silver or men of steel. They are flaring white presences on screen, towering over the rest of the cast.  Ghostly giants.

Anyway, let’s backtrack. The Doctor (William Hartnell, in a reduced role here in his final story) arrives at the South Pole with companions Ben (nuggety Michael Craze) and Polly (dolly bird Anneke Wills). Their arrival is observed by the men staffing a military base beneath the surface, via a periscope. It’s been some long, cold months since these red-blooded young soldiers have caught a glimpse of female beauty, so naturally they focus their male gaze keenly on Polly. ‘Hey, hey!’, says Latin type Tito. ‘Mama Mia! Bellissima!’

It’s an important moment; Doctor Who pointing out to its audience ‘Look! We’ve got sexy girls now.’ Pre-Polly the Doctor’s companions included attractive ladies, but they were not explicitly positioned as objects of desire. Only short-lived sidekick Sara Kingdom, a catsuited security agent from the future, bucked this trend. But Polly kicks off the long line of girls employed to keep the dads watching, and we’re invited to join in.

Such matters are of no interest to the sexless Cybermen, who shortly arrive at the Antarctic base to launch their plan to destroy the Earth. The polar base setting is mostly irrelevant to the story, but by marching around unprotected in icy blizzards, the Cybermen demonstrate their difference to us ordinary humans. That and their voices like teenage boys navigating puberty.

Spooky (or rubbish) as their appearance and voices may be, they’re not half as bewildering as their tactics. These monsters wander into the base every so often to blurt out their plans. They disguise themselves as soldiers by temporarily donning parkas, even though they have to stretch these over the oversize lamps atop their heads making them about as tall as the TARDIS and just as inconspicuous. My favourite though is the odd moment when they seem to stop everything to take a survey of the base’s personnel. ‘Age! Name! Occupation!’, the lead Cyb grates haltingly between exposition. ‘Postcode! Annual Income! On a scale of 1-5, how do you think the invasion’s going?’, I hope he eventually gets around to.

It’s a lot of effort to go to when really, all they have to do is wait. The main plan is to let the vampiric planet Mondas, Earth’s recently rediscovered twin, drain Earth of its energy. It takes a while for everyone on the base to work out what’s so familiar about Mondas because it’s basically the famous BBC globe upside down. That has everyone stymied, except Polly, who has been doing some continent spotting. ‘That bit looks just like Malaysia!’, she cries. It always amuses me that Malaysia’s the one she notices. I’ve been to Malaysia; lovely place but not one with a particularly distinctive shape. Certainly I’d struggle to identify it on a monochrome, inverted BBC globe. South America or Africa, yep. But Malaysia? Anyway, nicely spotted Polly.

But I digress. Mondas hangs heavy in Earth’s sky and its portentous influence robs spacecraft and spacemen alike of their energy. It’s worth remembering here that one of The Tenth Planet‘s co-authors is Kit Pedler, brought onto the show to lend it scientific credibility. Now I’m no Brian Cox – hell, I can’t even spot upside down Malaysia – but I think Doctor Who should have asked for Kit’s fee back. At least the part that went to thinking up peripatetic planets with eerie power eating abilities. On the other hand its nice to see the show at least shooting for some scientific credence. But it would never get away with such implausibility these days. *Cough! The Stolen Earth/Journey’s End. Double cough! Kill the Moon. Full emphysemic fit! In the Forest of the Night.*

Things are far more down to earth inside the base. The rag tag group of army personnel and scientists are led by Grade A nutbag General Cutler (Robert Beatty). Cutler is a loud brash military bully, who resorts to deploying nuclear weapons (others might have had an A-bomb, he has a Z-bomb) when his own son is threatened by the Cybermen. Cutler’s the embodiment of a very real fear, as scary in the 1960s as now, that some mentally unstable buffoon somewhere is the one with his finger on the button. It is a stark reminder that amongst all the implausible events taking place, the greater threat of destruction comes from ourselves, not from twisted allegorical versions of us.

But personal destruction awaits the Doctor, who has, it seems, been affected by Mondas’s life force draining ways, although none of the humans around him have. At story’s end, with the Cybermen defeated as their planet sucks away too much voltage, he collapses to the floor of the TARDIS and begins to change. And this is a story about what people change into; humanity turns into Cybermen, Generals under pressure turn into madmen, ordinary people turn into heroes to stop them both. So it’s not so weird that the Doctor turns into a new man, in a white flare out which looks a fairly basic special effect to our 21st century eyes. Is this brilliant or is it rubbish?

The answer’s clear. The execution’s a bit rubbish. But in the Cybermen and regeneration and the original base under siege and even the inclusion of sexy girls,The Tenth Planet has big, series changing ideas. And that’s its claim to brilliance.

Link to The Robots of Death: big mechanical bad guys.

NEXT TIME… I’m not so sure that this so-called adventure was such a good idea after all. We submit to The Dominators. Command accepted!

Mind control, mine controls and The Macra Terror (1967)

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“Don’t just be obedient,” the Doctor tells companion Polly during The Macra Terror. “Always make up your own mind.” Good advice, and particularly Troughtony advice, if you ask me. This era of the program is all about the personal freedom to be different.

Think of the second Doctor’s most familiar adversaries, the soulless Cybermen (God knows I have recently, having randomed both The Wheel in Space  and The Invasion). They are an emphatic expression of uniform conformity, and what mankind might look like with all its quirks and peccadilloes removed. Think of The Faceless Ones, where the threat is that humankind might be taken over by the identity-less Chameleons. Think of The Web of Fear or Fury From the Deep where big, intangible bad guys zombify humans and delete their personalities. Think even of off-the-wall bedtime story The Mind Robber, where the ultimate threat is that a computer with ideas above its station that wants to enslave the minds of Earth. “Sausages!” the Doctor says on that occasion. “Man will just become like a string of sausages, all the same!”

The Macra Terror has a slightly different take on the loss of personal freedom, though. It’s not so much freedom of expression that its enslaved human population lacks (there’s too much music and dancing for that), but the lack of free will. Not so much a string of identical sausages as the right to be a sausage in the first place, I suppose.

In this story, the human inhabitants of a futuristic colony mine gas to feed their overlords, a race of giant crabs, the Macra. The humans don’t rebel because the Macra brainwash them as they sleep, and condition them into lives of toil alternated with a series of jolly, holiday camp activities. They sing and chant and hold dance competitions.

(Even for Doctor Who, the combination of threat and jollity is an odd juxtaposition. And it’s signposted in the first few minutes. The story opens with an extreme close up of a desperate man’s eyes and the thump of a heart beat, like some French new wave film. Then we cut to a marching band complete with an eye-watering electronic fanfare. It’s bizarre, arresting stuff.)

So successful is the Macras’ brainwashing that the humans never think to ask why they mine the gas, or why they never see their Controller in person (he always appears to them in a static, Big Brother style photo). They’ve been made passive, unquestioning slaves, spurred on by shrill motivational jingles piped in like musak. (This, combined with one of Dudley Simpson’s harshest electronic scores makes this story a listening experience to put your teeth on edge.)

And people being hypnotised into passivity is a theme that runs through all three of Ian Stuart Black’s Who stories, so it seems that the loss of free will was a prime concern of his. In The Savages one class of people sucked the life force out of another, leaving the victims passive nobodies. In The War Machines, a mad computer hypnotised people over the phone and forced them to make killer robots.

And although the terrible Macra have a similar modus operandi, they remain a mystery to the audience. We see their big crabby carapaces in the dark, and through portals, always obscured (or so it seems from the telesnaps). Their origins are similarly vague. Are they native to this planet or did they travel here? Why the elaborate scheme to oppress the humans? Surely any species clever enough to concoct and operate such a set up can mine its own gas. Or is it as prosaic a reason as that the Macra can’t operate the precise machinery required with those nasty old claws?

But we should never let plausibility get in the way of a Doctor Who story. I think the story’s concerns about brainwashing are more interesting. Because Who doesn’t do brainwashing. Mind control, yes. But the subliminal feeding of information to influence your behaviour and make you work against your allies? The Macra Terror’s certainly the only story that addresses it explicitly (although we can nod in the direction of The Keys of Marinus: The Velvet Web, and a couple of Malcolm Hulke stories). Here we hear the voices infiltrating the sleep of our heroes and see the results of it when companion Ben (played with consistent earnestness by Michael Craze) turns against his friends.

My limited reading about brainwashing indicates that it gained potency as an idea post the Korean War, with the notion that Korea and China both practiced brainwashing on US prisoners of war. So it makes sense that Ben, the TARDIS crew’s military man, is the one who succumbs here (also, Polly had her mind taken over in Ian Stuart Black’s last script, so it was probably time to mix it up).   The method used here is whispering instructions to the subject during sleep. It works a treat on Ben, but our other heroes – notably Jamie – avoid it.

I single out Jamie, because as I noted when randoming The Highlanders, Ben is on the way out and this is his last full story. Jamie gets the heroic young lead storyline, Ben gets the siding with the bad guys one. To me, it looks like a way of trialling what a Doctor-Polly-Jamie line up would look like, and sadly the answer for Ben is, just fine. It wasn’t meant to be as both Polly and Ben jump ship next story, but that line up is one of Doctor Who’s roads untravelled.

Ben’s brainwashing puts me in mind of The Manchurian Candidate, more often attributed as an influence on The Deadly Assassin. Specifically the 1962 film, where a young man is conditioned to commit treason and murder. It doesn’t go so far here, because the story demands that Ben break free of his conditioning and help save the day.  But still, Doctor Who at this time was often about the potential dangers presented by the modern world; it makes monsters out of limb replacement and threats out of holidays abroad. In this context, The Macra Terror seems to be suggesting that brainwashing of citizens is a plausible scenario: it could happen to you.

It may be going too far to suggest the Macras are a stand-in for communism, but then again… the loss of individuality, the loss of free will, the duped populace and a mind control technique allegedly practiced by communist governments and cribbing from The Manchurian Candidate… Put these things together and there’s certainly a reading to be made along those lines. If that’s too long a bow to draw we can at least say that The Macra Terror is rife with Cold War concerns.

But don’t take my word for it. As the Doctor says, always make up your own mind.

LINK to The Invasion. Both Troughtons of course, but both also feature underground threats and, you guessed it, mind control.

NEXT TIME… Santa’s a robot! We walk down the aisle with The Runaway Bride.